Fighting Against Gravity
by PartyInTheNorth
Summary: Asha wasn't expecting to stay in Winterfell once she'd delivered her father's harsh message to her brother, but the broken girl with red hair tempted her to remain a little longer. Asha Greyjoy/Sansa Stark.


**Title**: Fighting Against Gravity  
**Author**: **partyinthenorth**  
**Fandom**: ASOIAF  
**Pairings**: Asha Greyjoy/Sansa Stark; Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark; Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark  
**Rating**: M for sexuality and language  
**Word Count**: 6045  
**Summary**: Asha wasn't expecting to stay in Winterfell once she'd delivered her father's harsh message to her brother, but the broken girl with red hair tempted her to remain a little longer.  
**Author's Note**: I was thinking about who I could ship Asha with, and it just struck me so I had to write this fic. It was going to be a little drabble but it got very long and it took me ages, but voila, a one-shot on a pairing that's probably not been explored very much before. Title is from The Apple Tree by Nina Nesbitt. Falling too deep, can you catch me?

Asha Greyjoy came to Winterfell one bright morning while a gentle flurry of snow settled sleepily on its high stone walls. It was beautiful in the shimmering sunlight, more beautiful than rugged, wind-battered Pyke, and she could almost see how her lost brother might have come to see it as home.

The war was over, the uneasy truce made between the Starks and the Lannisters sending Sansa Stark home in return for the Kingslayer, and all the young King In The North's bannermen and sellswords had gone home- except for Theon Greyjoy.

He had fought throughout the war at Robb Stark's side, and when offered the chance to come home to the Iron Islands, had declined. Lord Balon was furious, so he sent Asha to retrieve her little brother by force. And here she was, at Winterfell's gates, four weapons and a small bag all she had to her name.

At the gate, a dozy guard asked her name and business.

'I am Asha Greyjoy of Pyke, here to visit my brother Theon,' she announced proudly.

The guard seemed to be too tired to argue with her, and found a boy to lead her to some chambers, When Asha reached Winterfell's great hall, dressed in breeches and a man's shirt, unbuttoned too low to be decent, she found the Starks breaking their fast together, but her brother was nowhere to be seen. Her serving boy introduced her, and Robb Stark stood to greet her. He nodded to her in a kingly way, but Asha didn't bend the knee or curtsy, she refused to bow before any man, even if he called himself king.

'Lady Asha,' the King In The North said, in a deep, charming voice, 'I am afraid your brother has not joined us yet, he is not one for mornings.'

Asha had a half a mind to go and wake him herself, but decided she would like to spend some time observing the Starks first.

'I am willing to wait,' she answered, and Robb offered her a seat at his table, beside a skinny girl with long, luscious auburn hair.

'Good morning, Lady Asha,' the girl said in a gentle voice, 'I am Sansa Stark.'

'Good morning,' Asha said when she realised the girl's expectant look was in waiting for some courtesy. Asha ate in silence for a little while, listening to Lady Catelyn reprimanding little wild Rickon for eating messily and Robb teasing Sansa about some accident the previous day when she had fallen most unladylikely off her horse. They seemed like the perfect family, except for the absence of their executed father and little Arya, who hadn't been seen for years, but Asha could only wonder how well Theon fit into the family dynamic, a moody hostage leeching on their hospitality.

When the smart middle boy started talking about astrology, Sansa turned to Asha.

'Is it true...' she started, shyly, 'is it true you captain your own ship, Lady Asha?'

'It is,' said Asha proudly, 'I am mistress of the Black Wind and her twelve-man crew, and she is the finest ship in the whole seven kingdoms.'

Sansa smiled slightly, but she looked a little scandalised.

'I suppose m'lady has heard how the sea changes a woman?' Asha said, lending the girl one of her characteristic wicked smiles.

'No?' Sansa said, sounding as though she didn't really want to know.

'Being at sea makes a woman wild,' Asha murmured deeply into Sansa's ear, 'It gives her a man's hungers.' For good measure, Asha threw in a fist pump low below the table, near Sansa's crotch- or, as near as she could get with the girl's heavy, domed Southron skirt in the way.

To Asha's complete surprise, Sansa laughed. She leant a little closer to Asha and muttered, ignoring the smell of Asha's greasy, fishy hair, 'I am sure women have just the same hungers as men, they are just better at hiding them.'

Asha stared at Sansa Stark, her mouth open. She had made her comment to scare the little lady, or shock her into only looking at Asha with fear in her eyes, which was one of the Kraken's Daughter's great pleasures in life; but instead she had been met with a tongue nearly as sharp as her own. She glanced at Sansa again, sizing her up. She was slender, not skinny, and had a pert pair of breasts, just visible above the embroidered neckline of her viscous dress. Earlier, Asha had thought she was just a girl, but now she realised Sansa was a woman grown, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, wisdom and old angst in her Tully blue eyes.

'Asha?' called a man's voice as he entered the hall, her brother's reedy voice, sounding half-pleased and half-annoyed. He came over to stand beside her, but when it became clear that she wasn't going to stand and curtsy to him, he sat heavily down next to her.

'Asha, what are you doing here?' Theon said, starting too loud and lowering his voice when Lady Catelyn sent him a dirty look.

'Has no woman ever chased you before, m'lord?' she said in a feathery, girlish voice that was clearly not hers, clutching her hands to her breast.

Theon blushed, and glared at her. She loved teasing her brother, seeing the anger in his eyes mixed with that passionate adoration she liked to imagine he held for his wild sister.

'Really, Asha, why in the seven hells are you here?' he asked, leaning closer and speaking in an intimidating voice that didn't intimidate his sister. 'Our Lord Father sent me,' she said, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed his reaction: at the moment just a tightening of his jaw, 'He wants you to know that he has disinherited you, and that all of his men have orders to kill you for a craven, should they run into you.' Theon's lip twitched and his eyes glazed, and for a second she thought he was going to cry, but then he stiffened, and met Asha's eyes with a steely glare.

'He is not my father,' Theon said solemnly, 'He has not been for many years.'

Asha was strangely touched. She had never been close to her brother, and felt it was only right that she should inherit from her father instead of the boy he had left to the wolves and hated on his return, but something about his unwillingness to be hurt by her father's disownment resonated with her. He had spent a long time working to get his father's love, but now that it was gone forever, he would go on, harder and stronger. What is dead may never die, she recited to herself.

'Theon?' she said, not touching him but staying close, 'I am still your sister, for as long as you will have me.'

...

Asha wanted to get back to sea, but the King In The North had invited her to stay a week or two, and Theon warned her that some would see it as a slight if she didn't accept. In reality, she suspected he wanted to truly get to know his sister, and wasn't ready for her to leave again. Really, if she ever saw him again she would be bidden by her father to kill him, but Asha knew inside that she wouldn't.

However, she wondered why she was so devoted to him on the third day, when he told her she was coming hunting with him, Robb and Sansa Stark.

'Sansa Stark goes hunting?' she had repeated, incredulously, but now, out in the forest, she realised Sansa hadn't only been invited to keep her company. She was a vicious hunter, though a messy rider when not side-saddle, with good aim and a venom in her eyes that impressed Asha.

'You are a good hunter, Stark,' said Asha, who refused to call her companion m'lady. She wouldn't call Robb 'your grace' either, and it was rather upsetting Theon- which was all the incentive she needed.

'Thank you, Lady Asha,' Sansa replied, smiling a lovely little smile, 'I just imagine they're all Joffrey.'

Asha laughed. 'Good tactics.'

Just then, a deer came into view, bigger than anything else they had caught today, and Asha reached for her spear, lining it up as quietly as possible, preparing it to launch and- At the same second, Sansa let loose her arrow. The two points hit the deer neatly side by side, right between the eyes. It slumped to the floor, and the two girls dismounted.

'You can tidy that up,' said Robb Stark, laughing at their ferocity, 'Theon and I will go on, but we will come back here in ten-'

'Fifteen!' cut in Theon, almost angrily.

'-Minutes.'

It didn't take that long for Sansa and Asha to prepare the deer to carry back, but when Asha suggested catching up with heir brothers, Sansa sighed, and said in an uncomfortable, light voice, 'I don't think that's a good idea.'

'Oh, why?' Asha questioned, but she did wonder... Theon's arguing for fifteen minutes, the look Robb had given him after, their laughter as they rode with heads close together.

'My brother just likes to be obeyed, that's all,' Sansa answered stiffly.

When they came back in twenty minutes, longer than promised, Theon reached out to pluck a leaf from Robb's doublet, and the King In The North tidied his hair, and Asha _knew_.

...

Sansa had known about her brother and Theon for a long time. Yes, it had been something of a surprise that morning when she walked into the stables to find Robb pressing his friend up against the wall, lips on his neck, with Theon's hands roaming down Robb's naked chest, his shirt on the floor.

They didn't notice Sansa, so she just picked up her brother's shirt and folded it neatly on a little wooden stool nearby. At dinner that night, she couldn't stop herself from staring at Robb and Theon, sat too close to each other, joking and laughing.

When, afterwards, Robb came to her and said, 'Please don't tell anyone, San,' using his old nickname for her, she couldn't find it in herself to deny her brother his happiness.

So she hadn't told a soul, but Asha Greyjoy seemed to have figured it out just as quickly as Sansa. Sansa wondered how Asha felt about it. She liked Theon's wild sister, with her sarcastic laugh and the wicked glint in her eye, but she couldn't help imagining her in a gown of spun silk, hearty breasts pushed up by her smallclothes, hips jutting out into the curves of the fabric, hair washed and plaited elegantly down her back. The image was pleasing. Asha would be quite beautiful if she put her mind to it.

Sansa went out to the godswood after dinner. She used to hold the seven, but since her father's death she had taken solace in the shelter of the wise old trees, the face in the weirwood so kindly, so like her father. She sat down and started to pray, for her father's soul, for Robb's victories, for Arya to come home. She even prayed for Jon Snow now, worried about him as much as her real brothers. She hadn't known she would miss him until he was gone.

A twig broke behind her, and Sansa span to see Asha Greyjoy standing there, her breeches muddy and her smile gone.

'Didn't expect to see you, Stark,' she said, consternation in her wild eyes, 'I didn't realise this was a... a...'

'Godswood?' Sansa filled for her, 'Don't you hold the old gods in the Iron Islands?'

'I worship the Drowned God,' Asha said.

'Well, I'm sure he will hear you from here too,' said Sansa, patting the ground beside her, 'Come, sit with me.'

Asha glanced around. Why was she acting so shy and girly? She shouldn't be embarrassed by this pretty young thing and her gods.

'What do you pray for, Lady Asha?' asked Sansa in a soft voice, and Asha reluctantly sat down.

'Nothing,' she answered, 'The Drowned God either kills you or he don't, and nothing you say changes that.'

'You're not beyond their reach, you know,' Sansa said quietly, 'The gods will still take in a lost lamb.'

Asha looked at the girl incredulously. 'I don't need your gods, Stark, I've killed more men than I care to mention, and I don't need any god other than the Drowned God, to keep me afloat,' she shot, her malicious side coming out, 'And what good are your gods anyway? They didn't stop the Kingsguard giving you those scars, they didn't stop your father dying, and they won't stop your brother selling you like some whore to the highest bidder and making your life miserable!'

'Lady Asha-' Sansa started, but Asha cut her off.

'I don't need your fucking sympathy, Stark!'

...

'How are you getting along with the Lady Asha?' asked Robb, sitting opposite his sister in her solar.

Sansa sighed, 'I... to tell the truth, I am a little afraid of her.'

Robb laughed. 'Me too,' he said, 'She hasn't... hurt you or offended you, has she?'

'No,' Sansa admitted, 'She's just a little... wild.'

'Like Arya,' he said, sadly. Sansa felt a tear come to her eye. Yes, she is like Arya. Wild and brave and strong-willed. And I loved Arya for it, Sansa thought. Love, she corrected. None of them had heard from Arya since she escaped King's Landing with a Black Brother, but Sansa still held out hope that her fierce little sister would return.

'Is there any news?' Sansa asked, though she knew it was hopeless.

'No,' he confirmed. Her brother's men had been out looking for Arya for years and there was no trace of her anywhere. Sansa could only hold out hope that Arya would come home of her own accord. She wondered if she would recognise her now, now she was older. Sansa hadn't seen her sister since she was nine year old child, and now she would be a maid of 15. She wondered if Arya would still be parading around dressed like a boy, her hair cut short as Robb's men had told her the man of the Night's Watch who saved her had cut it. But also she wondered if Arya was too old to pretend to be a boy any longer, with a blooming feminine figure and a softness to her face that wouldn't fool anyone, though, knowing Arya, she would pull a knife on anyone who dared suggest she was a lady. When she pictured Arya, Sansa always borrowed from the statue of her Aunt Lyanna in the crypt, an elegant, stern face with the wildness of the North in every curve.

Robb took a deep breath.

'Tomorrow, some of our bannermen are coming and-' Robb paused- 'I need you and Theon to coax Asha into dressing up.'

Sansa gasped in disbelief, looking at her brother like he was mad as a Targaryen.

'It doesn't have to be a dress,' he amended quickly, 'Just something smart, so we won't scare our subjects. We are a royal court after all.'

Sansa was still dumbfounded, but the pleading look in Robb's eye made her soften. 'Fine,' she said, 'But I can't promise anything.'

...

Theon broke the news, but Sansa stood behind him as he did.

'A dress?' parroted Asha, her face reddening, 'You want me in a fucking dress?'

Sansa blushed at her foul mouth, and Asha saw.

'Oh, sorry m'lady,' she said, bitterly sarcastic, 'Did my words hurt you?'

That angered Sansa. 'I learnt long ago, in those awful days before Robb liberated me from Joffrey, what hurts and what doesn't,' she said, in a strong voice. 'And your words cannot hurt me if I don't let them.'

'And 'ere was me thinking you was a lady,' Asha spat, but her face betrayed the respect that she had found for Sansa.

'I am,' Sansa replied, 'That is what ladies do, they are strong and brave and they speak against evil where their husbands use a sword.'

Asha stilled. She looked guilty. Sansa was pleased. She had spoken well, if alarmingly like her lady mother, and finally she had broken through to the wild girl.

'I'll wear the dress then,' she conceded, and Theon celebrated, though the victory was Sansa's.

He left, and Sansa sent a maid to fetch the dress she had chosen, one of her mother's that they would need to alter. The maid bathed her, and then Sansa helped Asha into it, ignoring her defensiveness as she stood in her smallclothes, and then got out her needle.

'What've ye got that for, Stark?' Asha said, sounding horrified.

'I'm just going to tighten the seam on your waist,' she explained, and did so, Asha grumbling all the time.

Afterwards, Sansa sat her down and began to brush out her hair. It was very tangled, but Asha only grunted slightly when she dragged the brush through the very biggest knots.

She didn't even flinch when Asha asked, 'How long have our brothers been fucking?'

Sansa met her eyes through the mirror, and answered, 'I think they've loved each other since they were about thirteen.'

'Loved?' Asha spat on the floor, 'Is that what you call it? How can the Kraken love a wolf?'

'Theon's not the Kraken,' protested Sansa, staring at Asha through the mirror with an unreadable expression, 'You are.'

Asha seemed to freeze, and then stood up abruptly. 'I should go,' she said huskily.

'Wait a moment,' cut in Sansa, placing a hand on her shoulder, 'I need to braid your hair.' Asha sat again, and shuddered at the feel of Sansa's fingers dividing her hair into three sections an twisting them around each other, a simple Northern braid, though her hair was not as long as Sansa's. When she was done, Sansa's long fingers rested just a moment on the top of Asha's head.

'You're very beautiful, Lady Asha,' she said, and rushed out of the room before she could stop to think.

...

At the end of the evening, Asha began to look for Sansa. She had danced with Robb Stark and Theon and one or two others, but Asha was only really a fan of raucous, drunken dancing, preferably on whorehouse tables with sailors, and the evening bored her. She found Sansa sitting outside with another girl, taking in the fresh air and gossiping in each other's ears. The sight stung her, bizarrely, and she cleared her throat. They both looked up.

'Lady Asha,' said Sansa, sounding a little surprised, 'Please, sit with me.' She turned to her companion, 'I'll talk to you later, Jeyne.'

Asha sat down stiffly beside Sansa, and they stared at the floor in silence.

'You-' they both spat out in unison, and looked up to meet eyes, smiling. Sansa asked Asha to go first. Of course she did, she's all manners.

'You look beautiful, Stark,' she said, blushing furiously. She had meant it as a courtesy, and a genuine compliment, but in her rough, manly voice it sounded like bitter sarcasm.

'That's funny,' Sansa said lightly, laying her hand over Asha's on the wall between them, 'I was going to say the same.'

Their eyes locked fiercely, for once Sansa's the passionate and Asha's the timid, and then, in that dark corner, Sansa stretched over the gap between them and kissed Asha Greyjoy on the lips. Asha was shy at first and then pushed forward more powerfully, her lips rough and... almost salty when they pressed against Sansa's. It was only a brief kiss, and that was lucky because a moment later, Robb came out into the garden.

'San?' he called, and his sister stood and brushed herself down, ignoring the flush on her cheeks. 'Come back in, I want you to dance with me.'

Sansa glanced back at Asha and then took her brother's proffered arm.

...

At the end of the night, Sansa helped Asha undress. As soon as the pins were out of Sansa's hair, she sent her maid away and immediately started weaving her fingers through Asha's braid, untangling it. Their eyes locked through the mirror and Sansa's shut tightly, a tiny tear rolling down her nose. Asha stood, and, as delicately as she could- she cursed her calloused, sea-farer's hands- wiped the tear away. Sansa's eyes met hers.

'What's the matter, Stark?' Asha asked gently.

'Why do I never fall in love with who I'm supposed to?' Sansa whispered in a voice that trembled. Asha stared at her, her slim, pale face; her warm, Tully-blue eyes; her pink, trembling lips, all curtained by miles of soft, tumbling red curls.

Asha didn't feel like saying anything, so instead she just stepped up to Sansa, so close she could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the rosy blush on her cheeks, and kissed her. The second their lips met, Sansa sprang into action, one of her hands clawing through Asha's hair to her scalp and the other at her waist, thumb running circles over the skin, driving her crazy. Asha let her hands rest on Sansa's tiny waist, ashamed of the roughness of her man's hands against the soft silk of Sansa's dress.

When they broke apart, Asha spoke. 'You fell in love with me?'

'Of course,' Sansa said, nuzzling Asha's neck with her nose and dropping gentle kisses along her collarbone, 'How could I not? You swept into Winterfell like a wild wind and...' she looked up, meeting Asha's eyes solemnly, 'Well, before you came I was still afraid. Joffrey-' her voice broke- 'At King's Landing I was always terrified, and I still couldn't settle when I made it home, I was still scared that everything would be taken away from me, that I didn't deserve to be happy.'

'Oh, you do, lovely girl,' murmured Asha giddily, her hands running up the length of Sansa's waist, 'You deserve to be happier than anyone has ever been. We'll be happy together, Sta- Sansa.'

But Sansa's voice was still sober when she said, 'I was so scared, but you taught me how to have fun again.' Asha smiled, and kissed Sansa again. She was finding she couldn't get enough of the lemon-tangy taste of Sansa's mouth. Asha moved her hands under Sansa's firm buttocks and lifted her up, the other girl laughing lightly between kisses. She carried Sansa over to the big four-poster bed that was hers, and threw her down on the sheets. For a second she stood over Sansa, admiring the flush of her cheeks and the fire of her red hair splayed out on the sheets. Her knees were curled up around Asha's hips and her skirts had come right up, revealing her slender white legs, dotted with faint, auburn hairs.

'You're really beautiful, Stark,' Asha said, sounding wowed.

Sansa smiled demurely, 'So are you.'

'Don't lie, Stark,' the older girl said, leaning over her and kissing her fervently.

'I'm not lying,' Sansa said breathlessly as Asha's fingers and lips worked at her bodice, loosening and kissing in fluid movements. Eventually Sansa was naked from the waist up, pale and beautiful against the dark furs. 'That's not fair,' she laughed, 'I'm practically naked and you're still fully dressed!'

Asha undressed saucily, making a show of it that made Sansa laugh and squeak in equal measure. When she was naked before her, trying not to be embarrassed of her stumpy, muscular, sun-bronzed body- the opposite of Sansa's narrow, lean, pale form, Asha leant back over Sansa and kissed her, her hands roaming up to Sansa's deliciously round breasts, stroking and grabbing and then sucking with her mouth at the tensed nipples.

Asha tried to ignore the scars and bruises that still covered Sansa's skin, tried not to think of the bastard king who had inflicted them on her, tried to stop the hate that filled her heart.

They didn't touch each other beneath the waist, but Asha was proud that she made Sansa come nonetheless, and when they were both exhausted, they curled together under the furs, arms tightly locked around each other, Asha's face resting on Sansa's breasts, and slept until morning.

...

They settled into a pattern for the next week or so. In the day, Asha would practise her swordplay with her brother in the yard and Sansa would sew, and then they would meet for lunch. After that, they often went for a ride together, always, sadly, escorted by one of Robb's men, so they couldn't act as any more than close friends.

Asha's favourite game, though, was touching Sansa's breast or bottom whilst their guard wasn't looking, and watching her squirm as she tried to hide her arousal. It made her laugh no end.

And at night, whilst Sansa's old bed-fellow Jeyne slept elsewhere, they explored each other's bodies with fingers and tongues, giving each other such intense pleasure that they could hardly breathe for ecstasy.

In the morning, Robb or Theon or Lady Catelyn would comment on how nice it was that they had become such bosom friends so quickly, and Sansa would twine her fingers through Asha's under the table and share a secret look with her, and say, yes, indeed, she was glad to have found such a good friend in Lady Asha. Asha couldn't trust herself to reply without gushing about Sansa's hair or eyes or the delicate line of sweat under her breast when Asha licked it clean or the sweet, sweet sighs she made when Asha's rough fingers stroked her abdomen, light as a feather.

...

But the next week, that dreamy little world came crashing down. Sansa awoke to a knocking on the door, though Asha was too deep a sleeper to hear it. Sansa gently lifted Asha's face off her belly and tucked her under the furs. For the first moment when she got out of bed, naked as the day she was born, Sansa was freezing, but then she pulled on a bedrobe and opened the door.

'Lady Sansa,' said the young boy at the door, his eyed trailing nervously over her figure, too obvious through the thin fabric. She suppressed a laugh, wondering if he would be so eager if he knew what she had been doing the night before.

'Yes?' she cued him. This was Robb's squire, her memory told her, one of the many Walder Freys.

'His Grace wishes to see you in his solar, my lady,' the boy said, in a voice that was on the brink of breaking.

'Now?' she asked.

'Mayhaps once you are dressed, my lady,' he suggested, blushing worse than Sansa- though there wasn't so much that could make her blush anymore.

'Tell Robb I'll be there in ten minutes,' she said, and closed the door on the boy. She dressed quietly, trying not to wake Asha, and glanced at her before she left. Asleep, Asha was much less intimidating. She slept with a tiny smile on her face and her hair curled into her cheek, and she looked dainty and beautiful. Sansa bestowed the gentlest of kisses on her forehead before she left.

Robb was eating breakfast in his solar, alone but for his squire, who he sent away when Sansa arrived. She took a seat beside him instead of opposite him so that they could both see out of the window. When she was younger, Sansa hadn't understood the beauty of Winterfell, and it was only when she went south that she realised how much she missed Winterfell's frosty glory, pristine ruggedness. From Robb's solar, she could see all the towers of Winterfell, the courtyard below, and even right across to the dense green of the Wolfswood. It was beautiful. It was home.

'San,' said Robb, in the lightest of voices, 'I don't want to make this a command, so it's just an idea for now.'

'What?' asked Sansa, worried by his nervous eyes.

'Mother thinks you need to marry. The Freys have been troubling us and the smallfolk-' his voice broke off, embarrassed- 'They call you the Spinster Stark. San- I don't want you to have to marry against your will, and I understand if you don't trust men anymore, but... Could you find it in yourself to... To marry Theon?'

Sansa stared at her brother blankly for a long moment. 'But...' she searched for the words, 'Theon's yours.'

Robb bit his lip. 'He has no inheritance any longer, no home and only a word to his name, and you wouldn't have to go anywhere. Goodness knows why that madwoman Asha is still here, but when their father dies, the Iron Islands pass to her. Theon has nothing left.'

Sansa knew fairly well why Asha was there, and prickled at her being named a madwoman, and the flush of heat let her get over her embarrassment to say, 'What of the bedding? I don't think I can invite you, brother.'

Robb met her eyes with a sad glance. 'I would rather it were you than any other girl. The jealousy might not kill me that way.' Sansa bit her lip. She knew she would be the same if Asha married a man, but with Asha, she really didn't have to worry about that. Asha would never let a man shackle her down.

'Let me think,' Sansa said, and walked out of the solar.

...

She went back to her bedroom, where Asha was still half-asleep, and Sansa slipped under the sheets too, huddling close to Asha, her hand resting lightly on the other girl's breast.

For a second, she imagined lying in bed with a different Greyjoy, but the idea made her sick. Could she marry him? It worked out better for Robb than her. He got a legitimate reason to be very close to his lover, and an easy way to stop his lords from bothering him about Sansa; but Sansa got an overlord and a husband she would share with her brother.

It wasn't exactly the marriage she had dreamed of as a child, but that dream hadn't really appealed to her in a long time, not since she shared a bed with Margaery Tyrell and found herself curled up in the other girl's arms, enticed by the flowery scent of her lustrous hair and the eager pressing of her breasts against Sansa's.

Asha stirred, and smiled sleepily when she found Sansa's face beside hers.

'Morning,' she murmured, running a hand along to Sansa's waist.

She frowned when she felt fabric, and said, 'You're already dressed?'

'My brother wanted to see me,' Sansa explained, 'He had a proposition.'

'What?' Asha asked, sitting up.

'He wants me to marry your brother,' Sansa said.

Asha clenched her jaw, anger in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she burrowed down under the sheets and crawled up Sansa's skirt, pulling away her smallclothes with her teeth. And then she did what they had never been brave enough to do before, lowering her mouth to Sansa's sex and kissing frantically, sucking and licking and curling her tongue up as far as it would go, listening to the yelps and whimpers she forced out of Sansa until the other girl pressed a hand over her own mouth to stop the noises. Sansa came suddenly, sweet juice gushing out of her and into Asha's mouth. She hummed in approval, lifting her mouth off.

'You taste delicious, Stark,' she said, and put two fingers inside her to gather some more, causing Sansa to convulse with ecstasy. Asha came up above the sheets and put her fingers to Sansa's mouth, 'Here, have a taste.' Sansa licked her fingers obediently, a flush high on her cheeks and her eyes fluttering between adoring stares at Asha and straightforward ecstasy.

'You're mine, Sansa,' Asha whispered, close to her ear, 'No matter what he does, you'll always be mine.'

...

The wedding was small and dull. Theon looked more nervous than Sansa, who was resplendent in her dove-grey gown with her flash of red hair tumbling down her back. The ceremony was brief and when Theon placed the cloak with its kraken sigil on her shoulders, Sansa thought of Asha instead. She was the kraken, bold and mysterious and strong, not weak-minded Theon.

He kissed her lightly, his lips dry and scratchy. And then it was over.

...

Sansa got as drunk as she could, and she felt that Theon was probably doing the same beside her. Asha was on her other side, and Robb on his, and it was actually quite pleasurable to spend time in that little group, two pairs of lovers, two sets of siblings, two hearts about to be ripped apart by jealousy. But for the minute, they could just jape and eat and drink happily.

And then came the bedding. Sansa thanked the old gods and the new that her brother had forbidden his men from stripping her in the great hall, and instead he led her through to the bedchamber himself. Once it was only Theon, Sansa and Robb in there, the two men embraced tightly and Robb whispered something in Theon's ear, but Sansa stood awkwardly aside. Her brother still didn't know about her and Asha, or else she would quite happily be in Asha's arms now too.

Robb kissed her on the forehead before he left.

'Thank you, San,' he murmured, 'I love you, you know.'

And then he left.

The bedding was not too terrible. If Sansa closed her eyes, Theon smelt of sweat and salt the same as Asha, and she could almost pretend it was her kissing her instead. Theon may have loved her brother, but he was could appreciate a woman's body, and Sansa was a beautiful woman. He seemed to enjoy himself, and, as Sansa had expected, he wasn't gentle. He forced his way into her so hard she whimpered in pain, but she wouldn't scream. As soon as he was done, he left, for Robb's chambers, shutting the door behind him.

Sansa lay in the bed, her blood on the sheets around her thighs, a slow tear trickling down her cheek.

And then the door slipped open, and Asha snuck in. She ran straight to the bed, and got in beside Sansa, holding her tight in her arms. Sansa cried until she fell asleep, held close to Asha's breast.

When Theon and Robb came back in the morning to rouse her, they found the pair of them asleep in each other's arms.

Theon started to say something angrily, and Sansa felt Asha tense up beside her, but she interjected before they could fight.

'You're not the only ones who can fall in love,' she said, in the quietest voice imaginable.

...

A year later, Asha realised, for the first time in her life, that she was truly happy. Her brother sat beside her, his arm around Asha's shoulders relaxedly and a cup of wine in his other hand. They were closer than ever before now, and it was nice to have her brother back, even if he was still a wolf in their father's eyes. Theon was a little bitter about her father not disinheriting Asha for doing the same thing as Theon- staying in Winterfell- but he knew that when their father died, she would welcome him to Pyke quite happily.

Asha lay with her legs out along a sofa, all her weight leaning into Theon, and Sansa resting against her chest. Asha's arms curled around Sansa instinctively, almost too tight, but she had become protective since Sansa became a mother. She kept her dirk at her sides at all times, but then she had always been a fan of weapons. Baby Ned was asleep in Sansa's arms, his Tully-blue eyes closed and the first tufts of black hair- as dark and scruffy as Asha's own, were just beginning to appear on his head.

Robb came in, throwing his crown and cape down on a chair by the door, and Asha leant forward to let him kiss Theon before he came and sat on the floor beside Sansa, stroking his nephew's head gently.

It wasn't much, and it wasn't very normal, but it was family.


End file.
